when, a second later, the queerly named Tochatti arrived, her
face wrinkled into a discreet smile.

"Mrs. Carstairs up to-day?"

"She is in her room, sir. Will you come up, if you please?"

He followed her up the broad, shallow stairs, which this afternoon she
took at a more moderate pace; and then she ushered him into the room he
had visited before, falling back so that he went in alone.

Mrs. Carstairs was lying on a deep couch by one of the open windows, her
white gown set off by vivid blue cushions; and as he advanced Anstice
noticed that she looked even younger than he had judged her on the
preceding night. Her air of utter exhaustion had vanished; and there was
more colour in her lips, though her cheeks still retained their ivory
transparency.

By her side was a little table bearing a tea-tray, and as Anstice shook
hands, congratulating her at the same time on her restored appearance,
she drew his attention to the teacups.

"I was just going to have some tea. Be nice and have some with me. Will
you?"

"Thanks very much." He accepted promptly. "I've been busy all day and
should enjoy a cup of tea. But first--are you really better this
afternoon?"

"Yes, really." She spoke indifferently, as though the subject failed to
interest her. "I should have gone out, I daresay, but I felt tired, or
lazy, and succumbed to the charms of this delightful couch."

"You did quite right." He took the cup she held out to him and sat down
in a chair beside the deep Chesterfield. "You know I think you must make
up your mind to take care of yourself for a week or two."

"I can quite easily do that," Chloe Carstairs answered quietly. "I
hardly think I shall find it difficult to do what the new-woman novels
used to call 'living one's own life'--down here."

"Certainly there isn't much going on." Anstice was puzzled by her
manner. "Do I understand that you 'belong' here, as the country folks
say?"

She put down her cup rather suddenly, and faced him squarely, her blue
eyes full of a resolution which added several years to her age.

"Dr. Anstice." Her deep voice had lost its richness and sounded hard. "I
should like to tell you something of myself. Oh"--she laughed rather
cynically--"I'm not going to bore you with a rhapsody intended to convey
to you that I am a much misunderstood woman and all the rest of it.
Only, if you are to see me again, I think I should like you to know just
who and what I am."

Mystified, Anstice b